The Ties That Bind
by Tyranusfan
Summary: Sometimes the smallest things can remind you of what you've lost. One shot. Set season 1, a month after the pilot. Rated T.


_Set early in Season 1. Shout-out to K Hanna, see below. _

_Thanks to Geminigrl11 for the beta. Reviews craved. _

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**The Ties that Bind**

_December 2005_

"It's not your color."

"I like it. Seems like I've seen it before, somewhere…."

Dean shook his head. "Well, it wasn't anything Dad or I bought you. Trust me, it's not your color. It's lame, man."

The small Salvation Army outlet was pretty crowded for the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Dean didn't particularly like clothes shopping, especially amongst pushy pre-holiday crowds---not to mention when they were low on cash---but Sam's last decent tie had been ruined when they cornered a homunculus outside of Wichita, and they needed to look like big shots for their next job. Normally, Dean would have supplied Sam with one of his own, but to his dismay, his supply of decent menswear had also run down.

_It's a dirty business_, he mused.

Sam was still fussing over the three ties he had picked out. For some reason, he was hung up on the yellow-striped power tie. Dean had only had Sam back for a little over a month, and had forgotten how picky the big geek could get over the simplest things.

"Why're are you so tied up on that one?" Dean poked Sam in the ribs with a big grin. "Get it, Sammy? _Tied_ up."

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring him and still concentrating on the tie.

Dean sighed. "Seriously, that one doesn't work for you. There's like…a dozen more ugly, super-geek power ties here to choose from, so choose one of them. Don't get hung up on one."

Stepping closer to the mirror with the yellow one, Sam frowned. "I'm not hung up, it's just that I could swear that I've seen---"

He froze, eyes widening fractionally, then practically ripped the tie from around his neck, left it with the other clothes he'd picked out and stalked off toward the front of the store. Dean stood blinking, stopped cold by Sam's abrupt departure. He followed, but Sam was out the door before he could stop him.

_What the hell just happened?_

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Dean finished his shopping, paid for his and Sam's choices, then headed out. He found Sam standing on the sidewalk, hands folded on the roof of the car, fidgeting and looking like he wanted to be anywhere except where he was.

"Sam?"

A reluctant glance from behind too-long bangs was the only response. Dean frowned. "What was that back there?"

"Nothing," Sam mumbled.

"Didn't look like nothing. Looked like something," Dean pressed mildly, standing just behind Sam's shoulder, so that his presence was unavoidable, but not crowding.

Sam's moods had been swinging wildly ever since the fire, ranging from deep depression to barely contained rage. Some days, he hit both extremes.

It had been a rocky five weeks, to say the least. Jessica's death had left a huge hole in his little brother's life. One that Dean, after more than three years separated from his rebellious sibling, was ill-equipped to fix. The days where Dean could solve all Sammy's problems with a stolen ice cream bar from a 7-11 were long gone.

That was assuming it could be fixed at all. _Dad's still mourning Mom; how long's that been_…?

Sam shifted his weight from foot to foot under his brother's scrutiny, looking more embarrassed than angry, now that Dean saw him up close. Frowning, Dean turned and settled beside him, back against the Impala's door. "What is it, Sammy?"

His sibling hesitated so long that Dean almost repeated the question. When he finally answered, it was with a sigh and a bitter, self-loathing sneer. "That stupid tie…."

"What about it?"

"I have seen it before," Sam replied, eyes unfocused. Or maybe focused on something no longer there. "I had one just like it. Almost identical."

Dean blinked, having a feeling about where the conversation was going. He tried to sound neutral so Sam would keep talking. "At school?"

Sam nodded. "She bought it for me…to wear when I went to the interview."

_Ah_. Dean looked at the sidewalk, keeping Sam in his peripheral vision. _That_ interview. The law school interview Sam so urgently had to get back for. The one he never went to. He looked up at a flag on top of the building, watching it flutter gently in the breeze, hearing his brother draw in a long, shaky breath.

"I'm forgetting things, Dean. She laid that tie out for me before we left for Oregon. She wanted me to wear it to the interview because it 'made me look like a lawyer.' That's what she said. It burned up in the fire. It's only been five weeks and I'm already forgetting about her."

"You're not _forgetting_, you're just not _dwelling_ on it. There's a difference, Sam," Dean said, forcefully, but not unkindly. Sometimes Sam needed a kick in the pants more than a pat on the head. Usually, Dean made sure Sam got both, just to cover his bases.

"I'm not dwelling, Dean!" Sam retorted hotly. "I just want to---"

"Torture yourself," Dean finished for him. "Yeah, I've noticed."

Sam turned away angrily, but he didn't walk away. _Depression, bitterness, anger, the usual pattern_. Dean was slowly learning how to ride out the storms. He let Sam stew in silence for a moment, then went back to watching the flag above them. When he thought he'd waited long enough, he spoke quietly.

"Dad told me once that there were days when he couldn't remember what Mom looked like anymore…and there were days when he couldn't get her face out of his mind. That's just the way it happens, Sammy. It's natural."

He saw Sam turn back toward him, watching. Hoping to lighten the mood, he added. "Besides, we've been busy lately. I wouldn't blame you for being distracted. It doesn't mean anything."

Sam didn't answer at first, just watched him, absorbing the words. Dean pretended that he could see the geek's mental wheels turning. Sam's angry expression melted into a perplexed frown.

"Dad told you that?"

Dean shifted his attention from the flag back to Sam. Their father was notorious for not sharing his feelings, so Dean understood Sam's confusion. He shrugged. "He was drunk at the time. A fifth can loosen the tongue, you know?"

Despite himself, Sam laughed. Dean inched over, nudging the kid's shoulder. He got a gentle shove back, and knew the storm was over. He stood and pushed the bag from the store at Sam, who took it and glanced inside. To Dean's relief, the smile didn't fade. Sometimes memories needed to be nurtured, after all.

"Thanks, man," Sam murmured softly, pulling the yellow tie off the top of the pile.

Dean didn't answer, just yawned. "It's three more hours to Tucson. You want to drive the rest of the way?"

Sam looked at him skeptically. Before his sibling could read too much into the offer, he made a show of stifling another yawn. "Hey, after following you around shopping for four hours, I'm beat."

"It was more like forty minutes, Dean," Sam protested petulantly.

"Whatever, Samantha."

"Give me the damned keys, jerk."

Dean tossed him the keys, making for the passenger door. Sam playfully shoved him as he passed.

Sam was still grieving, but he would get better. He _was_ getting better. Dean couldn't ask for anything else.

END


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